


Counting down

by MorteMistrata



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-24 07:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12008040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorteMistrata/pseuds/MorteMistrata
Summary: Lance and Keith, each injured, wait for help. Some words are said, some things are confessed. How will they deal with the fallout?





	1. Chapter 1

“You’re not being very helpful.” Lance says, staring down at his stomach. The armor is marred, charred black and digging into the black undersuit with jagged edges.

Keith is breathing hard, loud enough to block out most of the background noises of their cell- the buzz of the particle barrier covering the hole, the hum of the air circulating through their tiny cabin. It’s unsteady and erratic and is just what Lance needs to distract himself from the pain spreading up through his abdomen.

Keith grits his teeth. “You’ve been stabbed, and I have a dislocated shoulder. I’m not in the mood to be helpful right now.” 

“Well I can’t move, or else I will probably bleed out. You, however, can. So get your ass up, and go be helpful.” Lance’s voice is much more confident and calm than he actually feels. Inside, he’s frantic. Is he going to die from this? Is he in shock? Is that why he’s so calm? And Keith, is Keith gonna be the reason why he never goes home again? Because he’s not getting off his ass, and figuring out how to get this rotten, hunk of junk shuttle out of the decapitated launch bay and in the range of the castle’s sensors? “Go on.”

Keith glares at him, and huffing, struggles to his feet. His right arm hangs limp beside him as he hobbles to the sparking console across the room. Lance coughs, and more blood bubbles up through his fingers. “Do you know how to rewire the navigation to engine?” He suggests, figuring that even if he can’t technically help, he can still do what he can.

Keith doesn’t reply. He runs his hands over the buttons, as if trying to read their shapes. He stoops down in front of the open panel, sticks one hand inside. 

“Keith?” Lance calls again. The amount of blood pooling out of him is getting kind of concerning. “Are you getting anywhere with that?”

Keith steps back, and then stands up, and presses something on the console. The cabin lights up, but the engine doesn’t purr. He turns back to Lance. “I need two hands to try to jumpstart this thing, and-” His eyes dart to the red painting Lance’s armor, and spilling into a puddle beneath him. “Are you okay? You look pale.” 

Lance forces himself to smile. “I’m good. Great. Awesome.”

Keith stumbles across the room, and crashes to the ground beside him. He cautiously lifts Lance’s hand from his wound. Red gushes out, like a spring has formed in his skin. Lance can’t feel it yet, too much adrenaline, but he can tell it’s bad by how pale Keith’s skin gets at the sight of it.

“That’s bad, Lance. Really bad. You should’ve told me when we’d first stumbled in here!” 

Lance can hear the panic rising in Keith’s voice, but somehow it seems to have a calming effect on Lance. He takes a deep breath, and lifts his hand from his wound, covering it again as he places a hand on Keith’s arm. 

“I’m fine. I can wait. I’ll be fine.” He lies.

Keith’s eyes water, but he nods, and tries to believe it. “Okay, okay. So we’ll wait. We’ll wait. And you’ll be fine.”

Lance nods, but the pressure on his wound lessens. He knows he isn’t going to last long enough for the pods to save him. Whatever that blade was coated in has kept his blood from thickening like it should. “And I’ll be fine.“


	2. Chapter 2

Keith circles around the room like a mad dog. What can he do? What can he do? His dislocated shoulder is so swollen he can’t even pry it out of the armor to even attempt to fix it, and his hand is numb and immobile.

He glances over at Lance. He’s pale, paler than Keith has ever seen him, and although the blood has stopped spurting out of him like a boat with a leak, the puddle underneath him is still growing.

“You checking me out?” Lance says, grinning. His teeth are tinted red. When did they get tinted red?

Keith tries to smile back, but it turns into a grimance instead. “You’re bleeding out, Lance. We can’t deny it anymore.”

Lance shrugs. “What’s the point in being serious? If I’m going to die-”

“You’re not going to die!” Keith says, his working hand flinging up in exasperation, as his limp arm hangs uselessly by his side. “So stop saying that, okay?”

Lance sighs and presses a hand to his wound. Blood wells up between his outstretched fingers. “Sure. Okay.”

They fall into silence again, and Keith starts to walk. Their team should know that they’re missing by now; their last check in was supposed to be hours ago, and their lions, or Lance’s at least, should be frantic with worry. They should be coming. They should be on their way, if Lance could just hold on-

“But why aren’t I dead yet?” Lance coughs, and Keith winces at the sound. “We’ve been sitting here for hours, and I’ve been bleeding for hours. By all rights, I should be dead.”

Keith glares at him, and hisses, “Stop it.” as Lance laughs, showing off his bloodstained teeth.

“You don’t want to think about me being dead, fine, I get it. But if I do happen to die, isn’t there anything you’d say before I kicked the dust?” Lance prompts, watching him imploringly.

Of course Keith does, but if he admits that, then he’s admitting that there’s a chance that it might happen, and Keith is not going to admit that.

Lance coughs, and it makes his whole body shudder like a leaf in the breeze. A sheen of sweat covers his skin, even though the cabin is on the chilly side. He watches Keith, and waits.

“You’re a good pilot.” Keith says, and it’s like the admission breaks down a dam. Everything he’s been thinking, hiding, trying not to think about this boy comes spilling out. “And you were never my rival. From the moment I met you, I wanted to be your friend. I really hoped that we could be closer than just friends too. I’m gonna miss you like hell if you’re right about this.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” Keith says, sitting back down beside him. The ground beneath him is still sticky with blood. He grabs Lance’s hand, which is oddly cold, and sighs. “I really will.”


	3. Chapter 3

The door bursts open, and the rest of their team spills in, a floating gurney drifting behind them. Pidge spots them first, her eyes growing wide at the sight of the two of them leaning against each other, red staining both of their bodies.

“Lance! Keith! Are you okay? Where are you hurt?” Hunk calls, rushing towards them.

Keith straightens up, and shakes Lance. He doesn’t stir. “You need to get him back, now! You need to get him in the pods.” He tries to lift Lance up, but his dislocated arm is still numb, unable to move.

Hunk carefully pushes him aside, and lifts Lance up. His armor creaks as Hunk moves him, but he doesn’t stir. Keith isn’t even sure if Lance is still breathing. “He said he was hurt, before everything happened. What happened?”

Pidge helps Keith to his feet, one of her hands lingering on his arm, as if to make sure that he’s real. Keith frowns. “He got stabbed. The blade was poisoned. He wouldn’t stop bleeding. He needs blood. He needs-”

Hunk pushes Lance through the door, and into the boarding hall outside. He walks fast, fast enough for Keith to know that he’s worried, even as he tells him, “He’ll be fine, Keith. He’ll be fine.”

It’s all a blur after that. Keith’s coralled into the medbay, and forced onto another gurney so that Allura can force his shoulder back into his socket. There’s pain, and Keith knows that he’s yelling, asking for Lance, asking that he’ll be okay.

He gets out of the healing pod five days before Lance does. Five days of worrying pass by, no longer for his safety, but about what they’d said to each other, when they’d thought that he might die.

/I really hoped that we could be more than just friends./

Even thinking about it has his cheeks burning hot. Keith really wishes that he’d’ve kept his big mouth shut; how can he possibly explain this away? Keith strokes the whetstone on the blade of his knife, and sighs. How can he face Lance now that he’s told him something like that?

“He’ll be out soon.” Pidge says, jolting Keith from his thoughts. She taps her fingers against the doorframe. “You wanna head up with me?”

Keith nods, and drops his knife back on his bed. “Sure.”

They walk together in a comfortable silenece. Keith is glad for it, glad that Pidge isn’t prying into him, trying to figure out why he’s been avoiding everyone else since he’s gotten back.

They stop outside of the med-bay doors. Pidge squeezes his hand reassuringly. “Whatever happened between you two, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Keith smiles back.

The step inside. Lance looks almost like he’s asleep, floating there. The clock counts down. The doors slide open, and Lance falls out.

Keith steps forward to catch him, for a moment forgetting any awkwardness between them. Lance straightens up, and smiles, his blue eyes latching onto Keith’s purple ones. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” Keith replies, stepping back. Pidge leaves, and the door slides shut behind her, leaving the two of them alone.

Lance rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “So am I supposed to forget about all of that, or…?” He trails off.

Keith shrugs. “Depends, I guess.”

“On what?”

“On if you feel the same way.” Keith says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “‘cause if you don’t-”

“I wanna be more than friends too.” Lance says quickly.

Keith looks up, and Lance looks away. He laughs, relieved. “And it only took you almost dying for you to admit it.”

“Could say the same about you, Mullet.” Lance says, closing the distance between them. He intertwines his fingers with Keith’s and grins. “But I guess the kettle shouldn’t call the pot black, huh?”

“Especially if the kettle wants the pot to be his boyfriend.”

Lance snorts, and breaks down laughing. “That sounds ridiculous. You’re ridiculous.”

Keith’s struck, right then, with the urge to kiss him. He tilts his head to the side with a single finger, and then leans forward, and then they’re kissing.

He’d never thought that anything but a funeral would’ve come from that mission, nothing more than a new scar. He’s never been happier to have been proven wrong.


End file.
